St. Kevin Holds Open His Hand Imagine being like Kevin, your grasping fist softens, fingers uncurl and palms open, rest upward, and the blackbird weaves twigs and straw and bits of string in the begging bowl of your hand, you feel the delicate weight of speckled blue orbs descend, and her feathered warmth settling in for a while. How many days can you stay, open, waiting for the shell to fissure and crack, awaiting the slow emergence of tiny gaping mouths and slick wings that need time to strengthen? Are you willing to wait and watch? To not withdraw your

Dearest monks and artists, I am heading off to Scotland today to teach our Earth Monastery Intensive at the Bield retreat center in Perth with Betsey Beckman. Then we will travel together for four days on Iona, this will be our second visit and we are dreaming into a future retreat there. St. Columcille, whose feast day was yesterday, was an Irish saint who journeyed by sea to Scotland and founded the monastery at Iona. There is a beautiful story that when he left Ireland he was overcome with grief at leaving his beloved homeland, but he felt the call